a splash of watercolour
by SebonzaMitsuki27
Summary: NevilleGinny. Feelings that spread into translucency.


a splash of watercolour

**neville **& **ginny**

_( state of empathy )_

disclaimer: I do not own harry potter.

* * *

Life is long and grey for Neville, filled with expectations and failing to meet them. There are flickers, small flashes of light that bring colour to the world: wrappers of Droobles that match the colour of his Gran's green dress, that red handbag. But these are only flickers: few and far between with vacant smiles and sweet affection.

And then on King's Cross, platform nine and three quarters, he sees her – a girl with brilliant shade of red, red hair. She doesn't notice him, and he doesn't really mind, because she's brought colour to his world and he never asked her for that, though he is grateful.

He isn't stupid, only forgetful, and there's quite a difference between the two. There's a remembrall in his hand, blossoming into a hue of magnificent red and the image of that girl is recalled, too young to join the train, but pointed and tagged along with her family. He doesn't know her name, but that's only because he never asked for it. But, that isn't what he's meant to remember.

A year passes, bravery growing and crumbling like ripples in the lake; one thing certain – that he's determined when that girl comes of age to board the train, he will talk to her and be her friend. Maybe not at first, maybe not at all, but you'll never know until the moment comes.

Dreams come and go, but he clings to the shade of red that shimmers like silk, desperate not to fade to the void of dull dray.

And, oh, what a surprise! With a blush and a mumble to Hermione, he finds himself comfortably lodged in a carriage, with the girl with pretty red hair. Gazing out the window has never been harder, and somehow, despite all the resolutions to talk to her and make her feel welcome, he can't find the words to even say hello.

Maybe Trevor knows, maybe the toad doesn't, but it's with a loud rabbit and a misjudged leap of faith, that the toad breaks the ice and lands on her lap.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm s-sorry…" The words fade on his bitten lips, sinking back into his throat, murmuring apologies that go unheard because she has the prettiest brown eyes, shaped like almonds and a mixture of hazel and walnut and somehow, he can't quite discern which nut is more appropriate to describe her with.

Her red lips curve and he can tell that she's a bit hesitant to speak and maybe a nervous smile is the best way to go after all…

"It's okay. Really. I'm fine." Giggling and flushing, she examines Trevor, idly stroking him. "He's actually kinda cute. What's his name?"

"He's Trevor. And I'm Neville – Neville Longbottom. A-and you are?" It's a bit of a jumble, a rush and a stutter, and Neville feels his cheeks heat up, but he hopes he's done okay.

"Ginny. I'm Ginny Weasley." She bites her lips and transforms them into a smile, albeit a shy one, which he can't help but return.

"Weasley…" Neville muses, wondering why the name rings a bell. "I know your brother – Ron! Ron Weasley, right?"

"Yeah, that's the one. He's friends with Harry Potter!" At the sound of that name, Ginny lights up and relaxes, hand loosening from an old transfiguration book, launching into an excited talk about the Boy Who Lives.

And he nods and encourages her, ears attentive and hanging onto every word, eyes counting every freckle on her pretty nose. When she finishes, Hogwarts is in sight and the shy boy wishes her luck in the Sorting, promising to save a seat for her if she's in Gryffindor.

She's never looked happier when the Sorting Hat booms out _Gryffindor!_ and Neville's heart skips a beat as he shuffles along to make room for her – after all, he _did_ promise.

But that's the last time he sees her elated, and though he tries not to, he sees her out of the corner of his eye, wearing an empty expression that is easily reminiscent of someone else. And he's stuck, because he doesn't know what to do, her glimmering eyes dull hazelnut, hair still shimmering brilliantly and the words don't come to mind when he tries to approach and comfort her.

Eventually settling for a hug, Neville hopes that it's enough.

"Thanks Neville." Ginny says, soft and quiet, but her invisible tears have dried.

Then he's torn between replying, smiling or walking away, but decides to remain by her side in hope to cheer her up and see a smile spread across that pretty, pretty face.

And at the of the year, he finally sees it – even though it's aimed at Harry Potter – it's enough to warm his heart and turn the skies blue.

He waves goodbye to her in the platform and she promises to write to him.

Though Neville doesn't say it, he hopes that she doesn't forget him either.

Somehow unable to stop smiling, he gazes at the Weasley family, noticing the Ginevra Weasley has the brightest smile of all.

As promised, she doesn't forget, sending a letter, enclosed with love and a souvenir from Egypt. Neville vows not to lose it.

He can't wait to see her again…

With eagerness, Trevor loses himself (yet again) and reappears in the laughing hands of Miss Weasley, tanned and more freckly than ever, gentle smile spreading readily. And white clouds billow like ship sails, silent as swans.

Keen as ever to listen, he lets her tell her tale, laughing at the antics of her twin brothers and the misadventures of Percy Weasley.

Though his moments with her are far and few between, he thinks of her as he goes to Hogsmede for the first time and try to remember to get the youngest Weasley something; breaking into a grin as he tries to imagine the look of surprise on her flushed face.

"H-hey," Neville says, stuttering, muttering a little bit. "Next year, do you want to go together?"

Ginny grins and adds orange into the dusk; mixed in with the curl of her hair.

And when she says goodbye, she kisses him on the cheek, murmuring a 'see you next year' in his ear; his cheeks unfurling extreme amounts of heat.

He builds his promises with smoke and mirrors, dreams and fantasy, and just before he closes his eyes and sleeps, he thinks of that Ginny Weasley, who always smiled kindly, talking to him and confiding that sometimes _she_ forgot the password as well.

It's so easy to fall in step with her.

And the next year, when he sees again on the train, walking and pleasantly surprised to see him, he offers her a grin, wondering why he's compelled to kiss her – though he hides the thought with filling his mind with talk of the Quidditch World Cute.

Life seems full of colour.

But it fades into grey once more at the sight of tortured spiders in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Life blurs and there's a reminder of pain everywhere with the memory of the Cruciatius Curse. His parent's faces flash to his mind, and ghostly shrieks of pain and irrevocable damage flitter everywhere. No matter what he does, he can't escape it, trapped in his still life prison. But distraction comes, both in Herbology books and… Ginny, soothing his soul.

And he nearly tells her about his parents – he _isn't_ ashamed, no, not at all, but he isn't proud either – and he couldn't bear it if her pretty face decorated her topaz freckles with diamond shaped tears. So the words falter and fade on the tip of his tongue. Thankfully, though, he feels calmer because of her, her word, her presence, her embrace and her kiss on his cheek.

It's an innocent gesture of friendship, of course, and life resumes in multicolour, magenta added to the palette.

Then he hears about the Yule Ball, and Neville's found the _perfect_ way to pay her back – by asking Ginny to go with him.

Yet somehow, he just can't do it – try as he might, the words fumbled and spluttered and danced across his cheeks, reluctant to form in his mouth and—

—the wrong name is said. _Hermione_. A perfectly nice girl who always helps him, and truthfully, Neville likes her well enough but… but…

Maybe she understands the mistake, maybe she doesn't; but either way she declines the invitation with a kind smile and a shake of the head. _Sorry, I'm going with someone else._

With a simple nod, he watches her walk away, and notices that Ginny Weasley is still there; and so he plucks up his courage, grabbing it with both hands and repeating the words with the _right_ name this time.

She looks left, she looks right, a rising blush spreading across her pretty, pretty face. And with a wide grin, she nods, her beautiful almond eyes sparkling.

Neville practises. Practises until his snores match the tune of a waltz, practises until he's dancing in his sleep, practises until he dreams of dancing with Ginevra, surreal enchanted and accompanied by doused lights. He practises until he's perfect.

But of course, Neville Longbottom is anything but. He accidentally drops the Transfigured flowers he intended to give her, setting them on fire. He stutters every compliment that comes to mind in a barely audible voice. He shakes and trembles and try, try, _try_ as he might, he steps on her toes.

Mistakes that stop Neville from being a perfect Prince Charming, without use of spells.

Mistakes that make her giggle and laugh.

And she brings a new meaning to the colour pink.

"I'm sorry." He mumbles, horrified at his failure to the very end. "I wanted it to be perfect… and… and it wasn't."

"Thank you." She says, biting back a laugh, "for trying. You didn't have to." At his protests, Ginny continues, stopping his tirade, both amused and sleepy. "Neville, you were yourself. And that's all I want."

The urge to kiss her there and then, grows inside him, but fear restrains him. There's rumour of a raging Ron Weasley, and if he stomps by during… during _that_, he may not survive the end of the night.

"Ginny." Neville squeaks, in a higher pitched voice. "You enjoyed yourself, right?"

"Yeah." She grins widely, and her countless freckles disappear in her blossoming blush. "I really, really did."

And Neville leans in… and kisses the corner of her mouth and the rising curve of her cheek.

"Thank you, Gin. Goodnight." He has enough resolution to say a gentleman's farewell, but not enough to meet her almond eyes.

"Night, Nev." Breathlessly, she says, before she goes up the corridor.

The Yule Ball wasn't perfect, but that's fine. That night, Ginny's eyes were on him and him alone.

It's the first time in a while that Neville Longbottom falls asleep with such a wide grin on his face.

And somehow, whenever he spots Ginevra Weasley, there's a squeak, a flash and a scramble in the opposite direction; and while Neville also does the same, since courage isn't a constant thing for him; at times, it's enough, other times, it isn't. Nonetheless, he tries to find it, never knowing the outcome until it passes him by.

No matter, for as he musters this 'bravery' on the last day of term and to come and say goodbye to his red haired beauty, promising to write to her, muffling apologies on how he didn't _mean_ to avoid her, it just, well, sort of _happened_ – work became too hectic, and all that hype of the Triwizard Tournament…

When he finally meets her, he's surprised to find that hair is just a _tad_ darker than her face and with a few incomprehensible mutterings; he gathers that she's saying the same.

"So, um, I'll write to you and see you next year?"

"Sound good to me."

"Okay."

"Oh, and… Neville?"

"Yeah?"

"Have… have a good holiday."

"Thanks. You too."

And when he sees her again, he's introduced to the colour of canary yellow. And without meaning to – since he hates attention, hates the spotlight of all sorts – be it friends, enemies, teachers or strangers – he calls himself nobody because really, he _is_ nothing compared to _Harry Potter._ But Ginny surprises you, as if all her shyness directed at him from the prior year is gone, and she introduces the canary bird as Luna Lovegood. He smiles gently at her as thanks, before flaring up with pride at his latest gift – the Mimbulus Mimbletonia – before experimentally triggering a Stink Sap attack. Oops. The colour does suit Harry's eyes, just a little bit.

Then Hermione and Ron come, and finally, Neville settles into comfortable conversation with Ginny that makes him almost forget that he nearly ruined it. But he remembers, and reminds himself not to bring it up, immersing himself in noticing the growing up that Ginny has done, who is growing more beautiful with every year.

Though he doesn't know it yet, the shade of green is brought into light with topics of her boyfriends. Light green, emerald green, lizard green, murky green. Every time that Neville sees Ginny, perched with Michael Corner, Dean Thomas, Harry Potter, the world is cast into a darker hue of green. But he doesn't do a thing; because he isn't Ron, not her brother and Neville won't break them up… it's not in his place. Instead, he accepts it in the quiet reminder that his chance is gone and it's too late.

If she's happy, then so be it.

This tranquil and tentative friendship is kept under wraps with fluxing equilibrium until Saint Mungo's. And he _isn't_ ashamed that the truth comes out, when his Gran tells his friends about his parents, he's _not._ It's just that he can't stand the pitying looks that strangers who know who he is, give him. And he hates the look on Ginny Weasley's face.

When he sees her again, to Neville's relief, she doesn't act condescendingly, don't act patronizingly, doesn't break out in tears, doesn't offer words of false comfort; only gives him a box of sweets that are for him and his parents, should he wish it. And like all the empty wrappers that he's been given, he keeps some of hers.

It renews the bond between them, strengthening them for reasons they cannot understand. She encourages him to practise spells, and eventually he succeeds. It's not the same as Hermione's techniques in teaching and improving, but maybe it's because he feels far more comfortable in his skin with Ginevra by his side. With Hermione, he knows that she means well, but there's something about it…

When he puts his mind to it, his memory functions better, and some spells come easier than others, the motions less complex. Confidence is the key, Ginny smiles, as he succeeds with another spell. And though the time isn't now, Neville hopes that one day he can help her out, staying up a little longer just talking and remaining by her side.

And maybe this effort will amount to nothing, but he when he chooses his loyalties, he sticks to them, unless common sense tells him otherwise. He's loyal to Ginny and Harry, so he follows to the Ministry of Magic and back.

It's inevitable: he messes up and loses his head, breaks the prophecy, gets injured.

But he _fought_ and survived. For that, Gran is proud of him.

All is not lost, there is still hope and because he _chose_ to go with them, instead of being forced to go, he feels the shadows loosen their grip on him.

He doesn't forget to write to Ginny in the holidays; doesn't forget to tell his parents. Even if he can sense their sadness interlaced in leftover wrappers, he can feel their pride with the look in their eyes; always there, but never noticed. Until now.

The holidays pass quickly, and in an instant, he can tell that something has happened to Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, though he'll stay quiet for now, waiting to see the outcome.

It's a bit of a joke, to be fair. How idiotic Harry gets in the face of love and not really realizing how he got there. And how Ron's face quickly becomes vermillion in the slightest indication of the romance of Ginny and Dean, preferring his sister to stay … well, its more likely that he wants Harry to be Ginny's boyfriend instead of Dean.

And how melodramatic the Weasley gets, it is better not to risk his temper.

He'll stand by her side, ask her how she is, smile and say goodbye; cheer her while she's Chasing in Quidditch; and try to be better than any diary when things get rough between her and Dean, make her laugh and quell her tears because her heart is such a _ridiculous _thing.

… and when Harry kisses her, Neville stands aside, because she was never his in the first place.

Not even if he wants her to be.

She will always have him, as a friend; and he values that, though he resents it sometimes.

It's the next year that changes everything, just as they knew it would. From a casual greeting and an enquiry about the wedding of Bill and Fleur, to a reminiscence of those tumultuous days, dangerous but safer compared to the year that they are about to take.

They plot, they scheme, and they bring hope to others.

A different kind of trio to one that existed before, but they are a golden trio nonetheless.

In the middle of terror, keeping your head down, an undiluted madness, they have _fun_. Because Luna is Luna, Ginny is Ginny and Neville is Neville, and they fit together like a three leaf clover, containing a little bit of oddity and faith of chasing dreams. They have something to strive for, even without evidence of achieving it, they'll try nonetheless. And if they sometimes fail, well, it'll produce a bit of a laugh, later on when all they have is each other.

They are not important, but they are not insignificant, and if that inspires a bit of courage, then it'll all be worth it in the end.

"I miss him, Nev." Ginny confides to him. "I miss him so much."

He knows that. He knows it so very well. It amazes him how strong she is, and he sadly wonders how long she can manage before she shatters, so he holds her close and strokes her hair, hoping that she can hold on a little longer, it'll be over soon. All they need is time. All they need is to stall the Carrows.

"I know, Gin." He whispers. "But we have to be brave."

For Harry. For Ron. For Hermione.

"If the time comes… we have to be there. We have to be prepared."

If her tears fall, then he cannot tell; hidden in darkness and holding her hand.

"Tell me a secret." He says, one day, leaning on the wall, shoulder-to-shoulder next to Luna and Ginny.

And one by one, they tell each other their greatest hopes, greatest fears, of possibilities and impossibilities, indulgent fantasy and horrible nightmares. Add a dose of crazy myths and legends, the trio's shells slowly crack one secret at a time, a shade of indigo interwoven with black.

Sometimes they laugh, sometimes they cry, sometimes they quirk a smile, sometimes they cheer with murmured voices.

Fervently hoping that they'll all survive.

Then one day Luna is gone.

Just him and her now.

It's getting riskier, but they _have_ to be symbols of hope, they _have_ to be closer than ever.

Because they support each other, they are the strength that the other person needs.

And one day, when it all gets too much, Ginny kisses Neville. Soft and gentle, tinged with desperation and desire, and it's all he's ever wanted but—

—but not like this.

Not like this.

"Ginny. Ginny. Ginny." He says, her name a mantra and trying to slow the beat of his heart. "I can't—"

"But I…"

"I'm sorry." He says, cheeks flushed, heart palpitating, unable to look her in the eye. "But I can't. _We_ can't."

She only watches him, hazel eyes unreadable.

"There'll be a time for me and you, if you… if you want, after the war, but now… now isn't that time. Merlin knows I want it be, but… it's not."

But he can't resist the temptation of kissing her any longer.

"Nev." She breaths, forehead touching. "I don't think I'm coming back."

And he knows that she isn't taking about forever, might be talking about this moment right now and is talking about school.

"That's okay." He says, somewhat shakily, braving a grin. "I'll wait."

"You'll let me know, right?" She offers a failed one in return.

"Yeah. I promised Luna, I promised you." He keeps his promises.

So he wipes her eyes, holds her close, and kisses her one last time, before watching her go.

He's been waiting for seven years.

He can wait a little longer.

As a friend, as a lover, as whatever she wants him to be.

He'll wait for her to paint the sky violet.

* * *


End file.
